All Moments Wasted
by ancientbeauty
Summary: Humans can be more dangerous than the aliens. Right now, Tom's biggest worry is getting his son out of here alive.


The first thing that registered in Tom's mind was the blood in his mouth and the pounding of his head. The second thing he registered was that his feet were bound together but his hands weren't. Still, with his eyes closed, he brought his hand up to his temples and rubbed small circles into the side of his head, letting out a groan as he pried his eyelids apart.

A dim light came from above—but it didn't help much; moonlight and crisp night air filtered its way into the room through the cracks in the boards that were covering the windows on either side of the room. He could tell that the room was big and spacious because he could hear faint echoes of his movement gliding against the walls.

Then, like a slap to the face and the squeeze of his heart he thought: _Hal_, and his eyes flew open and his heart began to race and for a moment he wasn't even thinking straight; he just felt panic. Despite the sudden increase in heart rate and the stinging he felt behind his eyes, he made himself focus. Although his arms were weak and shaking, he pushed himself up on his elbows and then eventually into a proper sitting position to try to get a better grasp on the situation at hand. Just as he thought, the room was big. And it was also nearly pitch black. Squinting, his eyes zigzagged across the room looking for any signs of Hal, Dai, their guns, or their bikes.

Using more strength than what was currently available in his body, Tom forced himself to his feet and hopped toward his right calling out for Hal and Dai. Over the swishing sound of his boots on the dirt below, Tom heard the sound of someone breathing in sharply. He froze.

"Hal?" he whispered, but there was no reply. Only darkness and silence responded to his call out. Tom swallowed hard, turned his body in the direction of the sound, and tried again with, "Dai?"

A moment later a small, wavering voice replied, "A-are you hurt?"

The voice was a woman's voice. Tom's eyebrows raised as he took a second to process that there might be more people in this room than he thought. He cleared his throat but kept his voice low. He whispered, "I'm okay, I'm okay – have you seen my son? Young kid, dark hair, green jacket…" But when there was again no reply, he asked, "Where are you? I can't see you."

"Just walk forward with your hand out," the woman instructed quietly.

Tom did was he was told. He slid his feet across the floor with his left hand outstretched. A moment later, his hand collided with another hand skinnier and more fragile than his. He grabbed in gently, and lowered himself down to the floor where she was. He kneeled there in silence for a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust so he could see her.

"I heard them bring you in," she whispered to him, gently pulling her hand away. "You and two other people, I think."

"Yes!" Tom exclaimed maybe a little louder than he should. "Yes my son and our friend… do you know where they're at? Do you know if they're okay?"

Slowly, Tom's eyes became more accustomed to the lack of light and he was able to make out more objects and evaluations about his surroundings. He took in the fact that they seemed to be in a barn and not a room – especially considering the dirt on the floor and the constant cold hair coming from the windows. Tom noticed tall beams of wood holding up the space, and the gray hair of the woman on the floor in front of him.

She answered back softly, "I think they're in here. I think they brought you all in here, but I don't know where the men went or when they're coming back." The woman spoke quickly and sharply, although there was sympathy that intertwined in her voice – like a mother.

From about two yards away a soft, "T-tom? Tom is that you?"

Tom's eyes widen and he whispers back, "Dai?"

He begins making his way over, moving his chained legs as fast as they'd let. He feels the chains pull taut as he tries to move faster and faster. The shackles rub harshly against his skin through his jeans but he doesn't care. "Is Hal with you? Are you okay? Have you—"

"Hal's right here, I've got him," Dai answered back quickly. Although he had just woken up not too long ago, his eyes have already adjusted to the darkness. He watched Tom get over to him and Hal as quickly as he could, and then rolled his head over to his right to look at Hal who was still lying on the floor, unconscious.

Tom dropped to the floor next to Hal, placing a hand under his chin to turn his head, and shaking him. He called out, strongly, "Hal?"

Tom squinted his eyes to catch any change or movement from Hal, and when he noticed none he called his name again; this time a little louder.

Hal's leg slid up into a bent position and he groaned softly, with consciousness coming back to him quickly. Cold night air encircled his body and he felt a cool shiver slide down his spine. His hand gripped around Tom's wrist as his eyes opened slightly. He tried to sit up and felt a hand on his lower back helping him change positions and a voice asking, "Are you okay?" But before he had time to process the words, the voice asked again, this time with more concern, "_Are you okay?"_

"'M fine," Hal says softly. The blurry haze slowly disintegrated and he was able to properly make out his father's face in front of him and his hand on his back. A small grin slid across his face as a wave of relief washed over him.

"Dad, I'm okay."

Tom watched as Hal took a survey of their surroundings. His eyes landed on the big door toward their right and he began to stand, mumbling, "We can't just sit here," as he pushed himself to his feet. Just like Tom, his ankles were shackled, with only about a foot of chain length between them that made it difficult to walk with any ease or consistency. Tom was right behind him, trying to talk a plan into his head, but it was obvious that Hal had a plan of his own.

"We don't know who these people are, Hal, we have to be careful," Tom whispered in a strong tone. He gripped the back of Hal's arm to slow him down, despite the fact that neither of them was going fast at all considering the shackles.

"I mean, they were able to take us down once, so we need to assume they can do it again. We need to have a plan; me, you, Dai and… _her_," Tom says slowly. He gestures over his shoulder in the direction of the elderly woman he met minutes ago. "We have to be smart about this."

Hal nodded, and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. With his dad's hand still around his arm they walked back toward Dai and the woman.

"We're gonna get out of here," Tom says softly to the woman. Although she kept a straight face, he could see, even in the low light, that she was frightened. Hell, he was frightened too. But Tom knew it was his job to get Dai, and his son, and now this woman out of here alive.

Crawling to make it easier, Dai moved closer toward the group. Tom and Hal sat down near the woman. With an outstretched arm and a small smile, Tom said, "My name is Tom. Tom Mason; and this is my son Hal," and waited for the woman to shake his hand.

"Mary Smith," she answered back almost shyly.

Tom pointed to his left and said, "And that's Dai."

Both Mary and Dai gave each other a small nod of recognition.

Wasting no time, Tom asked generally, "Alright, what do we know about these guys?"

"They're fast," Hal answered a moment later. "I didn't even see them when they got the jump on us."

"They're skilled," Dai imputed.

Tom shook his head. "Bashing three guys over the head doesn't necessarily make them skilled. So let's hope they're more brawn and less brain."

Dai nodded in agreement. "Let's hope we can out-smart them."

Mary swallowed and whispered, "They're mean—vicious, and -"

There was a loud sound of wood scraping against dense dirt that made them all jump. Tom and Hal turned to face the sound; hands balled into fists and prepared to fight if they had to. They didn't know what these guys wanted or who they were, but they weren't really interested to find out.

The shadow of a tall man divided the room in half, and slowly shrank as he entered the room with a shotgun in his hand. Behind him were three other men, just as tall, and one about three times the size as the other two. From what Tom could see, the bigger one had a beard and long hair. The thinner ones had subtle five o'clock shadows and dark eyes. Tom glanced at Hal and then back at the men.

"So they're awake," the one in the front said; he held his shotgun recklessly loose in his hands as he approached them. Then, with his head turned over his shoulder, he growled, "Can we get some damn light in here?"

The bigger man stepped back and flicked a switch by the huge door. Overhead lights lit up, but it didn't help much. The objects and people were easier to see, but the room was still relatively low-lit. Hal blinked as his eyes readjusted to the new intake of light.

Tom pushed back the lump in this throat and asked strongly, "What do you want from us?"

The man with the shot gun raised his eyebrows. His lips parted and exposed his yellowing teeth. He said, "Funny, I don't remember asking you to speak."

"Yeah well I don't remember asking you to kidnap us but here we are," Hal snapped back too quickly for him to even stop himself. He felt his father's and Dai's eyes snap toward him. Mentally, he cursed at himself, but he didn't let it show on his face. He stared the man with the gun in his hands, refusing to waver at all.

The man cocked his gun angrily and pointed it at Hal, "You won't have such a smart mouth with a bullet in your head you son of a bitch!"

Hal's eyes expanded, but he didn't move at all – couldn't move, actually. He took aim at Hal's head, finger daring to grip the trigger. The man's eyes reduced to little slits on his face, and his mouth slimmed to for a straight line; a vein in his head was suddenly very apparent. Tom jumped, put his hands up, and yelled, "Don't fire! Put your gun down!"

"Josh, hey, hey!" yelled the other slimmer guy as he put a strong hand on the gunman's – Josh's—shoulder. He pressed his fingers into Josh's shoulder, and with the other hand he gripped the base of the gun and forced it to point toward the ground instead.

"Just calm down," he said to Josh softly.

Josh's eyes met Tom's a moment later and Tom saw nothing but pure anger. Tom blinked and had to look away for a second. Tom didn't like the recklessness Josh was showing – he was a time bomb and Tom could tell. He'd have to get passed him if he was going to get everyone out of here alive and unharmed.

"Listen kid, I don't need your smart-ass mouth," Josh warned. He stared Hal down, narrowing his eyes just a little and biting his lower lip.

One of the other guys stepped forward. He had blond hair and dark green eyes. He was missing a tooth just to the right of his two front teeth, but besides that he was very attractive. He pushed himself in front of Josh and the other gunman.

"The more you cooperate, the easier this will be," the blond said. His voice was deeper than Tom would've thought. At his side he fingered over the handle of his pistol as an implied warning. Tom gripped the back of Hal's jacket protectively.

Tom spoke up. "What do you want from us?"

Josh huffed and rolled his eyes.

"You, personally? Nothing. But we want your information."

Tom's eyebrows scrunched together. "Our-?"

"-where your camp is, who your leader is, how many people you got, your guns, ammo, food-," Josh elaborates in an annoyed voice.

Tom shakes his head. "Why on earth would you think we'd give up our group, to _you_ of all people?"

Josh smirked and let out a small sarcastic laugh. Then he cocked his shotgun and pointed it directly at Tom. "Because you don't have a fucking choice," he answers back hastily.

Hal puts his hand out yelling, "Hey how 'bout you put the gun down!"

"Shut up, kid!" yelled one of the other smaller gunmen and suddenly his handgun and Josh's shotgun was pointed at Hal. Tom felt his breath get stuck in his throat and he pulled on Hal's jacket again.

Tom looked at each of their faces, gathering his thoughts before he spoke up again. "We can talk this out…," he started in the calmest voice he had.

Again, Josh chucked again. "_Talk_," he said mockingly. "He wants to talk. Guys… he wants to talk."

The other three let a small smile break across their face, but they didn't put their guns down; although their target has switched back from Hal to Tom- and Tom was much happier with that. Tom swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke again.

"Talking it out isn't as crazy as you might think," he tried to reason. Slowly, he tried to move himself away from Hal. Tom wanted to keep him at a distance in case the gunmen shot. He didn't want Hal anywhere near him if the bullets started flying.

Tom continued: "Obviously, you want something from us—and I can't promise that we're gonna give it to you—but I can promise that we can try to work something out. There's always room to work something out, right? Compromise; I mean, you don't wanna hurt anybody. I know you don't. You—"

"God, shut the hell _up_!" Josh yelled. His face turned a light pink as frustration filled him and patience drained. Hal's eyes watched as Josh's finger twitched against the trigger – getting ready to squeeze it. He watched Josh's finger, almost as if it were in slow motion, hitch and then slide back on the trigger tightly.

And it was instinct, pure instinct, when Hal leaned toward his father, calling out for him, and putting his own body in front of his father's. He didn't even feel the bullet hit him, or his father yelling for him, or the old woman screaming, or the loud _bang_ of the shot ricocheting off the barn's walls. He did, however, feel a warm sensation wash over him, and then a feeling that resembled tiredness, and then nothing all over again. He felt his body stiffen, and the sudden urge to close his eyes for a long, long time.

"Josh!" the blond yelled, eyes wide and mouth hung open in an 'o' shape.

Josh lowered his gun but never too his eyes off Tom who was now leaning over Hal with his hands shaking and his eyes already filled to the brim with tears and his voice cracking as he yelled his son's name.

"Hal, look at me! Open your eyes! _Open your eyes_!" Tom yelled as his voice got more frantic by the word. With one hand, he cupped the side of Hal's face; and with the other he pressed down on his bleeding wound, trying to get his own breathing under control.

The bigger gunman pushed Josh's shoulder roughly. "Josh you shot a kid- a fucking _kid_."

But there was no remorse in Josh's eyes, and his voice was cold when he said dryly, "Little bastard shouldn't have gotten in the way," before heading toward the door without as much as a glance at Hal.

* * *

This story was originally posted on AO3 but someone told me that were was a stronger fan base for Falling Skies here, so I decided to give it a try.

If the responses are positive, I'll try to add a new chapter fairly soon; so let me know what you think!


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